


Chasing Fire

by wthrvns



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Summer Romance, in which tater plays in the CHL, loosely inspired by The Last Song starring Miley Cyrus, slight angst, the lakeside small town beach AU you didn't ask for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:42:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26080615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wthrvns/pseuds/wthrvns
Summary: Kent has been telling himself for months he should quit because he can’t leave home and ask his mom to pay the costs, or leave her and Katie alone. But deep down, Kent knows he didn’t quit hockey because he’s selfless. He did it because he remembers getting hazed for the first time, stripped naked in a bus bathroom and praying no one catches him looking. He did it because he can’t stop thinking about that damned kid who got abused by his own team, and he is so deeply, to his core, afraid that someone will find out his secret.
Relationships: Alexei "Tater" Mashkov/Kent "Parse" Parson
Comments: 20
Kudos: 73





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> To clarify, dialogue written in Cyrillic is done to convey that Kent can't follow what's being said. If it's romanized, it's because Kent can at least register and repeat the words, even if he doesn't understand. Translations are in the end notes!
> 
> Enjoy!

Buffalo isn’t the greatest city in New York. Kent is under no delusions that it is or that anyone outside of upstate New York gives a damn about it. Buffalo isn’t even the _nicest_ place in New York, being more run down than the plethora of smaller college towns. As someone who’s lived there his whole life, Kent knows this.

But, _Rochester._ Not even Rochester, but some no-name town down the highway from Rochester where half the population is retired. This is where his good-for-nothing dad decides to settle down after bailing on them. Four years of radio silence and then suddenly he’s calling them up with a change of heart, talking about visitation and spending the summer with him and his new wife and son. 

Fuck that.

This is what he said when his mom broke the news, and he promptly got a swat to the back of his head for it. So, yeah. That’s how he ends up in Alcott, squished in the backseat of his dad’s brand new sedan, as they cruise along the water. Joan is a chatty woman, and it must be genetic because her son Tyler doesn’t shut up for the whole ride. Kent doesn’t remember being this annoying as a kid. Mostly, it’s a blur of hockey, lunchables, and the teenage mutant ninja turtles. That, and his parents screaming at each other.

Being the youngest, Katie’s been forced into the middle seat. From the look on her face, she’s not much happier than Kent is. He remembers enough about their dad bailing to be bitter about it, but Katie can barely even remember the man, so he really feels for her. It’s another awkward twenty minutes before they finally make it to their house, a beautiful home with pristine white paint and large open windows. It’s the kind of place they’d never have been able to afford in the city, and Kent much prefers their cramped apartment back home. 

Joan already has dinner ready to be warmed up, and his dad smiles while he helps around the kitchen. Kent’s never even seen his dad in the kitchen before. It’s foreign and so Americana that he wants to hurl. They even have apple pie for dessert before Joan shows them their new rooms. 

Katie is ecstatic about her own, which is decked out in bright pastels. Kent’s is more toned down, but carefully styled with blues and grays. It’s the kind of room you see in movies, carefully designed by someone who’s never actually been in a teenage boy’s room. In the corner sits a black box and a new hockey stick. Kent grits his teeth.

“Do you like it?” Joan asks.

“What is this stuff?” Kent ignores her question.

“Oh! David mentioned you’re a pretty good hockey player. We thought it would be a nice surprise.”

“ _Was_ a good hockey player,” he corrects. “It might have been a good surprise a year ago. Y’know, when I was still playing and dad was avoiding my mom’s calls about child support.” It’s rude, and he feels like a jerk as it comes out, but he says it anyway.

She gapes at him in shock.

“Joan, why don’t you go help Katie unpack her things? You can show her the clothes you picked out.” His dad appears in the doorway. He waits for her to nod and leave before entering, like he’s afraid Kent will detonate if one too many people step in his space. “Can you please behave yourself?” He asks in a low tone.

Kent scoffs. “This _is_ me behaving. You’re on thin ice, Dad. What the hell is this stuff?” He gestures to the new skates.

His dad sighs. “Don’t be a brat, Kent. I spent a lot of money on those. I don’t understand why you would want to quit. You love hockey, and you’re great at it.”

“So you thought if you bought me some new skates and a shiny new stick, I’d change my mind?”

“I’m not trying to force you into anything you don’t want to do. No one’s making you play junior. I just thought it’d be nice for you to share your interests with your brother.”

Not that Kent had something against an eight year old, but he wasn’t sure the random kid he met at his dad’s wedding was classified as a brother.

“There’s a family event this weekend hosted by Rochester’s junior team. We thought you could take him, show him the ropes.”

Ah, there it was. ‘Visitation’ Kent’s ass. The dick probably just wanted a free coach for his new kid. “Well, what about Katie?”

His dad raises his brows. “I didn’t consider it, but I’m sure Tyler wouldn’t mind if she tagged along.”

Kent snorts at that. “If you’re looking to build a dynasty, I wouldn’t overlook her. The hockey genes could come from mom’s side.”

“Stow the attitude, Kent. Everyone is trying their best here.”

He leaves Kent standing alone in the room, itching to ruin every pristine detail.

* * *

The first week is brutal. There’s practically nothing to do, and Katie begs him everyday to take her to the beach. He spends three days just watching them collect rocks (Katie shows him each one, and Tyler just tosses them into the lake). Kent wonders what his friends back home are doing while he spends his summer babysitting. He doubts that they’re even his friends anymore. He wasn’t disliked at school, but he spent most of his time with teammates. Most are dispersing across the country to play in the CHL, and he’s made himself a pariah amongst anyone staying in New York. After all, he hadn’t exactly given an explanation when he withdrew from the draft. Kent isn’t sure they’d have kept in touch even if he had left.

On Saturday, his dad hands him the keys to his ‘86 Cherokee, and Kent shuttles Katie and Tyler to the Rochester Millers’ home rink. The place is bustling with families, and a few teenagers from the team are mingling around in blue jerseys. He helps the kids lace up, Katie grimacing at the smelly rental skates they have to get her. 

“Have you skated before, Tyler?” Kent asks while checking his helmet strap. 

“My dad takes me during Christmas.”

“Alright, well these are gonna feel a little different than those. Just watch me. Or Katie, she’s a pro now.”

“I can skate with both feet,” she pipes up.

He feels surprisingly nervous as they approach the gate. It’s been almost three months, the longest time he’s been off the ice since he was eight years old. Katie and Tyler go first, all wobbly knees and bent ankles. He pauses mid-step, taking a deep breath, before stepping forward. 

The glide of the ice beneath his feet is second nature. The new skates are stiff, but Kent adjusts easily. After all, this is his element — you could tape two knives to a pair of hiking boots and Kent would find a way to play hockey with them. He shakes his head, waving off the sudden ache in his chest.

He lets Tyler and Katie wander off, trying the drills set up and racing each other at comically slow speeds. When Kent is confident Tyler won’t wipe out, he grabs him a stick and shows him how to pass, keeping an eye out for Katie who’s holding court amongst the other six year olds. He’s adjusting Tyler’s grip when a chorus of cheers breaks out.

Katie’s tiny mob is crowded around a boy who towers over them. He’s juggling a puck, tossing it in the air and catching it on the blade of his stick. The boy glances over and catches Kent watching. He gives him a conspiratorial wink before tossing it in the air and batting it into the empty net. Kent rolls his eyes when the kids lose their minds. _Show-off._

“Whoa,” Tyler breathes in awe. 

“Big deal, I could do that,” Kent mutters.

Katie skates back to them, dragging the boy along by the edge of his jersey. “Kent! Show Tater one of your magic tricks!” She teeters to a stop, and they both reach out to steady her.

“Tater?” Kent raises a brow. The name on his sweater says Mashkov.

“Like tiny potatoes. But you can call me Alexei.” He speaks with a thick accent, and his grin is lopsided, revealing slightly crooked teeth. It’s oddly endearing.

“Kent, show him one of your tricks! Do the twirly one,” Katie begs. Alexei-slash-Tater gestures for him to go ahead.

Kent rolls his eyes. “Alright, alright, stop whining.” He drags a stray puck closer, shuffling it a few times before twisting his wrist and scooping it onto the blade of his stick. He keeps it carefully balanced as he does a quick spin, then snaps it between his legs. The puck hits the ice, gliding into the net. 

“You didn’t tell me you could do _that_ ,” Tyler accuses, and Katie cheers.

“See, I told you! Isn’t that the coolest, Tater?”

“Yes, very cool,” he nods sagely.

“My brother is the best hockey player! He’s gonna go to the en-aych-el,” she stumbles over the words. His heart warms at her faith in him, but it’s mortifying to have her say it in front of someone who _actually_ might join the NHL.

“Really?” Tyler looks at him with stars in his eyes and newfound appreciation for his step brother.

“No, not really. Stop telling people that,” he knocks his fist on her helmet. 

A coach blows her whistle, and the kids all start to huddle up. Kent ushers them to center ice. “Go play with the other kids.” They skate off, but Alexei hangs back and watches with Kent.

“So you playing how long?” He asks.

“Huh? Oh, uhm, eight years. But I don’t actually play anymore.”

Alexei hums curiously. “Eight years is long time. Why you stop?”

“Just thought it was time to focus on school. Junior year, getting ready for college.” His answer is rehearsed, one he’s repeated hundreds of times. He leaves out the part about the draft — Alexei doesn’t need to know about Rimouski.

He nods understandingly. “I’m not apply, but I’m hear from classmates. Is little bit different for me. NHL draft next summer, is hard to focus on school.”

This Mashkov guy must be good if he’s this focused on the draft. There’s a pang in Kent’s heart. A year ago, he’d been the same. He was dreaming of playing with his heroes and lifting the cup, and school was in the back of his mind.

“That’s awesome,” he says even though his lungs feel tight. “I’ll keep an eye out for your name in the headlines.”

“I’m win cup, invite you to party, yes?” Alexei jokes.

“Mashkov! Stop chin-wagging and get over here!”

Everyone looks over to them, and Alexei blushes. “Yes, coach,” he calls back. “Sorry, have to go.” He smiles apologetically. 

“Better hustle, then,” Kent chirps. Despite his height, Alexei is light on his feet as he skates away. Kent is willing to bet he’s been skating since he could walk.

The kids practice basic skills with the players for the rest of the event. Tyler is shakier than the other kids, but doing well for starting at a late age. Katie shows up the boys in her group, and Kent takes a few proud videos on his phone to send to their mom.

And if Kent’s eyes linger a little too long on Alexei as he crouches down to talk to the kids, you’ll never hear him admit it.

* * *

Kent doesn’t expect to see Alexei again. Not that he hasn’t _thought_ about seeing him again — he’d gone as far as looking him up on myspace before deciding it was both weird and unnecessary to add him. It’s not like they’d be meeting again in the future. He writes off the crush as a boredom induced infatuation.

By the end of the month, Kent notices that carrying Katie is harder than it usually is, and is faced with the horrible truth: he’s out of shape. He hasn’t been working out since the season ended. Kent’s young, and eight years of sports doesn’t disappear overnight, but it’s enough to scare him into picking up running. It gives him an excuse to leave the house, and he welcomes the reprieve from his dad and Joan’s presence. He relishes in the burn of his lungs and strain of rusty muscles being worked. It feels good, familiar. He could use something familiar right now.

“Kent!’

The shout makes him jump, dropping his phone in shock. He stumbles over the earbud wires and lands on the ground gracelessly. When the world stops spinning, he sees Alexei frowning at him from above.

“Am so sorry, not mean to scare.” He offers a hand and hauls Kent upright. Kent is only a little distracted by how large his hands are and the strength of his grip. Just a little.

“No worries, man. What the hell are you doing here though? Don’t you live in Rochester?”

“Am playing hockey there, but billet family is living near here. Small town called North Oaks.” The name sounds familiar. They have passed through the nearby town a few times, if Kent remembers correctly.

Kents eyes roam over Alexei’s form and notice he’s dressed in sneakers and running shorts. Sweat has begun to soak through his ratty t-shirt. Kent does a double take.

“Wait, did you _run_ here? That’s gotta be, like, ten miles.”

“Seven,” Alexei grins. “Is conditioning. Train hard in off-season and maybe next year win Memorial Cup. Are you finished with run? I’m know good place for ice cream.”

Kent knows it’s a bad idea. He shouldn’t get involved with a guy who has any business talking about the Memorial Cup, but he nods along anyway.

“Yeah, I could use some ice cream. You’re paying, though, as compensation. That could have been a career ending injury.”

Alexei feigns terror. “I’m almost rob world of next Gretzky. Who else will do magic tricks in shootout?”

Kent shoves him, laughing. “Shut up, asshole.”

Alexei leads him to a small shop near the water, with a colorful banner spelling out _Gordie’s Creamery_. The girl at the counter perks up when they enter.

“Алеша! Кто твой красивый друг?” She greets in rapid Russian. 

“Он друг с хоккейного катка. Не заигрывай с ним,” Alexei responds in a chiding tone. “Kent, this is billet sister, Natalia.” 

“Hi,” she greets in a smooth American accent. “So, what’ll it be today?” She gestures to the wide array of flavors.

“Oh, uh, vanilla is fine.”

Alexei looks at him with betrayal. “I’m show you best ice cream and you choose vanilla? No, we eat good flavors.” He says something to Natalia in Russian, pointing at one of the flavors — goat cheese, Kent notes in bewilderment. He goes through the entire display, picking out the most obscure options until he has a bowl of ten mismatched flavors.

“No judgement, man, but are you sure you can finish that?”

Alexei plucks out two plastic spoons from the colorful assortment. “We share,” he grins. “До скорого!”

“Bye!” Natalia calls out from the backroom.

Alexei leads him back outside to a small table by the pier. It has an umbrella and everything. He offers kent a tiny yellow spoon.

Kent chooses a flavor at random, and is pleasantly surprised. “Not bad,” he hums.

“I’m tell you, best ice cream. So, you are being new? I’m not see you around before. Hockey world small here.”

“Oh, I’m just visiting for the summer. My dad and his wife are here. I live in Buffalo with my mom and my sister.”

“Little girl from practice?”

“Yeah that’s Katie. The boy was my step-brother, Tyler.”

“How long you stay?” Kent thinks he must imagine Alexei looking a little disappointed.

“Just until August, before school starts. How long have you been in North Oaks? It’s a far way from Russia.”

“Only one year. Is very hard at first, missing home and Mama and Papa,” he says wistfully. “But billet family is Russian so not too bad.”

Kent knows the feeling. He’s only been in Alcott for a few weeks, and he already misses his mom. He has no idea how he would have survived in Quebec for two years — he barely even passed high school French.

“Is hard but is dream, you know?” Alexei continues. “Papa say stay home, play KHL. But I’m want to come here so bad. Love Papa but want to make own story, not just be like him.” He looks down guiltily. 

Kent pauses, ice cream halfway to his open mouth. “Your dad’s a hockey player?”

Alexei nods. “Yes, is big star in Russia. Mama is being olympic skater. So there is a lot of—how you say—pressure to stay in Russia.”

Apparently Kent is eating ice cream with, like, Russian sports royalty.

“Bro, that’s so cool though,” he says, finally eating the melted bite. “My dad’s a fucking accountant.” He’s also a deadbeat asshole, but Kent omits that part.

Kent’s phone buzzes. It’s a text asking when he’ll be home for lunch with the family. Kent finds it ironic that Joan values family time so much yet married someone like his dad.

“Speaking of the devil,” Kent frowns apologetically. “I think I’ve got to head back home now.”

“But ice cream,” Alexei blinks sadly at the paper bowl. It’s a half-eaten soupy mess.

Kent snorts. “We’re doing your trainers a favor. Can’t be eating like this in the NHL.” He cringes as Alexei takes a melty spoonful.

“Exactly, only have little time left for eating like this,” he complains, startling a laugh from Kent. “We make the most of summer, come back later. Give phone.” He holds out his hand expectantly. He programs his number and hands it back.

“Yeah, man,” Kent says despite his better judgement as they head back towards the trail. “It’s not like I’ve got much else to do but babysit.”

“Next time bringing Tyler and Katie, yes? They are being so cute!”

“Haha, yeah, sure. Well, this is me,” he gestures down the trail.

Alexei points in the opposite direction. “I’m going this way. Bye, solnishko!”

“Wait, what does that mean?” Kent asks, but Alexei is already jogging away. “Bro, what did you just call me?”

Alexei shoots him a wink over his shoulder, but doesn’t stop. “Paka!”

His phone buzzes, and a part of Kent almost expects it to be a text from Alexei, but it’s just his dad scolding him for not responding. He pockets the phone without texting back.

“What the hell just happened?” He mutters to himself.

* * *

He gets a text from Alexei a few days later. It takes him a minute to recognize who it’s from.

 **Alyosha:** you free today?

 **Kent:** yeah

 **Kent:** what’s alyosha

 **Alyosha:** is me alexei!! alyosha is nickname)))

 **Alyosha:** i’m meet you at park at 6

Kent kills time by hanging around with the kids before he gets ready to leave. He switches out of the sweatpants he’s been wearing for a week straight, but is dismayed to see that he doesn’t own anything much nicer. He debates between two plaid shirts before deciding they’re virtually the same. Plus, Alexei is a hockey player — he probably couldn’t tell the difference to save his life. Kent frowns in the mirror at his cowlicks, but leaves off his hat in favor of brushing them out with water.

He skips down the stairs, but his dad catches him before he makes it to the door.

“Headed out?” His dad raises a brow.

“Yep,” Kent chirps.

“Where to?”

Kent snorts. Other than the lakefront park and a cluster of shops, Alcott is purely residential. “It’s a small town, Dad. There’s only one place to go.” 

“You’re dressed up,” he tilts his head calculatingly. “You meeting a girl?”

 _No_ , _the Russian boy I jerked off thinking about last night,_ Kent imagines saying back. Instead, he says, “No, a friend I met at the rink.”

His dad looks pleasantly surprised. “A hockey player? I’m glad you’re making friends out here.”

Kent rolls his eyes. “This doesn’t change anything. I’m still not playing anymore.”

“Maybe you can talk to your friend about it, see if he can change your mind. You’re so good Kent.”

Kent feels his temper rising, set off by a hair-trigger. “You want to lecture _me_ on quitting? That’s pretty lame coming from the person who walked out on us.”

David pinches the bridge of his nose. “We’ve talked about this, Kent.”

“There’s nothing to talk about! What was your plan, to bring me here and harass me about it? Were you just waiting for me to go pro so you could take the credit?”

“You need to watch your attitude, Kent. I’m your dad, and you wouldn’t be where you are if it weren’t for me.”

Kent can’t help the hysterical laugh that bursts out of his chest. “What the hell did you ever do? Mom’s the one who put me through lessons and took me to all those practices. All you ever did was complain about how much it cost, then bailed when you decided I wasn’t worth it anymore,” he spits.

His dad’s face turns an alarming shade of red. “I am your father, and you’re going to show me some respect!”

“Not likely!” Kent calls over his shoulder, slamming the door. He storms halfway down the block before he hears his dad calling him back to the house. He flips him off and keeps walking.

He’s in a sour mood when he reaches the lake. He considers cancelling, but it’s not like he can go back home. Plus, it’s not Alexei’s fault that Kent’s home life is fucked. He stares at his phone, debating whether to chicken out or not, when Alexei’s name pops up on the screen.

“Solnishko! You getting lost?” 

Kent grimaces. He’s almost half an hour late. “Sorry, man. I was running late. I just got here, but I don’t see you.”

“I’m by docks.”

Kent glances towards the water and spots Alexei waving enthusiastically. Grinning, he pockets his phone and jogs over. He nods hello as he approaches.

“Hi! Welcome to boat,” Alexei fidgets with the rope in his hands.

The laugh that bubbles out of Kent’s chest is dangerously close to a giggle. He’s horrified with himself. _Get a grip, Parse,_ he scolds himself. “Where the hell did you get a boat?”

“Is billet dad’s. Sergei is letting me borrow.” He steps onto the boat, long legs bridging the gap easily. “You coming?” He gestures for Kent to get on.

Kent takes a careful step, but the boat rocks, and his foot gets caught. He stumbles, but Alexei wraps a steadying hand around his arm, suppressing a smile.

Kent flushes. “Shut up. Do you even know how to drive this thing?” 

Alexei shrugs. “Like driving car, no?”

Kent doubts that. “Can you drive a car?”

“Sergei teach me last month.”

Kent sees his life flash before his eyes. He’s going to die in a boat crash on Lake Ontario. He’ll never get to see the Sabres win the cup.

Alexei steers them further out onto the water as the tinny radio croons some indie pop song that’s been playing all summer. He kills the engine and comes back to lounge in the seat beside Kent, basking in the sun.

“So, what’s the plan?”

Alexei peeks one eye open to peer at him. “What plan?”

“Are we just sitting out here?”

Alexei rummages under the seats and pulls out a small cooler. “I’m bring piroshki?”

Kent peers inside curiously. There’s an assortment of round pastries inside. “What are they?”

“Is Russian food,” Alexei perks up. “I’m help Natalia make. Not as good as mama, but still good. Here, try,” he breaks off a piece. The dough is flaky it, and a savory flavor melts onto Kent’s tongue. 

“It’s good,” he hums.

He gets a bright grin in return. They split all of the pastries, ranging from savory potato to sugary apple. Alexei tells him stories about learning to make them back home with his grandma.

“How is baby sister and brother? Are you bringing them back to rink?”

“I wasn’t planning on it. My dad was the one who insisted we go last time.”

“We having event again this month. You should come.”

Kent tilts his head, considering it. “I’ll ask them if they want to. By the way, I never thanked you for indulging them. I know Katie can be pushy,” he rolls his eyes.

Alexei shrugs. “Is no need to thank. Cute little girl ask me to meet cute brother, I’m not complain.” He winks flirtily.

Kent freezes mid-chew. He blinks speechlessly.

The grin slowly falls off Alexei’s face. His eyes flit away nervously. “Sorry, I’m misunderstanding? Is okay, I’m just joking,” he forces a laugh. “I can drive us back now—”

“Is this a date?” Kent cuts him off. _Real smooth, Parson._

“I’m — yes?”

“Oh, okay. Uh, we can stay,” he hedges. “I mean, if you want to.”

The tension eases from Alexei’s shoulders. “Okay, we stay then. I’m really beg Sergei to let me take boat. I tell him I need to impress cute boy,” he chuckles.

Kent’s cheeks heat up at the comment. “He knows that you like boys?”

“Boys and girls. Sergei’s family knows, mama and papa know. No one else is knowing. Is very dangerous in Russia.”

“It’s nice that your family knows. I haven’t told either of my parents,” Kent frowns. “You must be pretty brave to tell them.”

Alexei hums. “Am not brave, just not wanting to hide anymore.” He reaches up and brushes a crumb off the corner of Kent’s lips. He keeps his hand there, cupping his jaw. “Can I kiss you?”

Kent pulls away sharply. “What? Are you crazy?” He glances around to check for other boaters. “You’re going to be in the NHL. You can’t just go around kissing guys in public,” he hisses.

Hurt flashes across Alexei’s face. “Kent, we on lake. Who’s seeing us?”

“I don’t know! But I’m not gonna be the guy who ruins your career. Don’t you know what happened to that kid in the WHL?”

Alexei’s eyes soften. “I’m see on news. Kent, is this why you quit?”

“His team _abused_ him. Can you imagine what they’d do to someone they actually knew was gay?”

Kent has been telling himself for months he should quit because he can’t leave home and ask his mom to pay the costs, or leave her and Katie alone. But deep down, Kent knows he didn’t quit hockey because he’s selfless. He did it because he remembers getting hazed for the first time, stripped naked in a bus bathroom and praying no one catches him looking. He did it because he can’t stop thinking about that damned kid who got abused by his own team, and he is so deeply, to his core, afraid that someone will find out his secret.

Kent doesn’t realize he’s shaking until Alexei grabs his hand to steady it.

“Is okay, Kent. Not being scared. I’m best D-man, to protect you,” he jokes softly. It’s such a lame joke, but it fills Kent’s chest with warmth. Alexei’s firm grasp grounds him, and it makes him realize how sick he is of being angry and scared. He wants to live like Alexei’s said — fearless and untouchable — so he lurches forward and presses his lips against Alexei’s. It’s a chaste kiss, but Kent feels on fire. 

When he pulls away, Alexei’s cheeks are pink. “What is that for?” 

Kent shrugs. “Just ‘cause. Come on,” he stands, tugging Alexei along. “Show me how to drive back.”

Alexei teaches him how to steer the boat, and they kill time by tracing out patterns in the water. Afterwards, they dock the boat and roam around the town center. Kent picks out a beaded necklace for his mom, and they stop by the thrift shop to take pictures of each other in gaudy clothes. When the sun sets, Alexei brings him to the local theater to watch some old cheap horror movie. It’s not scary at all, but Alexei still winces at every jump scare so Kent holds his hand, thankful that they’re alone in the back row.

“I really thought he might pass out at the end of the movie,” Kent laughs.

Alexei prods sulkily at his ice cream.

“He’s like that with literally any movie. When my little cousins came to visit, he got scared during Scooby Doo. Why would you suggest a horror movie, Alyosha?”

Alexei whines something in Russian, and Natalia rolls her eyes.

“He said that’s what they do in American movies.”

Kent bites back a grin. “Next time you can take me on a Russian date.” His eyes flit nervously to Natalia, but she doesn’t react. If Alexei trusts her, then Kent figures he can too.

She sighs, getting up from her seat. “Well, I gotta start closing up soon. Can you swing by and get me after you drop Kent off?” She tosses him a set of keys.

Kent bids her goodnight, and Alexei leads him to a lot around the corner. He whistles when he sees the sleek car parked there. “He let you take his car too?”

“I’m really have to beg him,” Alexei grins sheepishly. “I do so many chores.” 

He watches Alexei’s profile as he drives, a little too fast but confident. He’s not conventionally attractive, nose bulbous and jaw a bit too wide, but Kent doesn’t think he’s ever seen a more beautiful sight. He’d rather stay out with Alexei all night than go back home where he has to face his dad’s suffocating presence.

Feeling bold, he waits until they’re on a secluded road before telling Alexei to pull over on the shoulder.

“Why, something wrong?” Alexei glances at him.

“So we can make out.”

Alexei slams on the brakes. Kent winces at the seat belt digging into his torso.

“Maybe not in the middle of the road?” He offers.

“Right,” Alexei croaks and eases onto the side of the road. He barely kills the engine before Kent is climbing over the console and onto his lap. He slots their lips together and feels Alexei’s hands settle on his hips. It’s deeper than their last kiss, the taste of Alexei’s tongue against his making him lightheaded. Alexei tightens his grasp, pulling Kent closer, and the feel of him growing hard sends lightning bolts down Kent’s spine. He pulls away panting, drunk off Alexei’s cologne.

Alexei leans forward again, and Kent laughs breathlessly when he misses and bumps their noses together. “I think I’m die,” he gazes at Kent with lidded eyes.

“Hmm, maybe. Does that make this heaven?” He runs his hands through Alexei’s dark locks. He glances at the time and sighs. “I should probably get home soon.” He fumbles back to the passenger seat, muttering an apology when he bumps the horn with his elbow. Alexei doesn’t even flinch.

“You good to drive?” He checks, buckling back in.

Alexei grunts something unintelligible and starts the car. Kent grabs his free hand for the rest of the drive, reminding him to turn off the headlights when they get to his street. They pull over in front of the house, and Kent thanks the gods that Sergei drives a ridiculously quiet luxury car. All the lights are off inside, and Kent counts his blessings.

“I’ll text you?” He pauses, hand on the door. 

“I’m wait,” Alexei beams.

Kent waits for the car to disappear down the street before walking to the back yard. He climbs into his room through the window, and is surprised to see the lump under the covers on his bed. With light steps, he kicks off his sneakers and shuts his door, wincing as it creaks.

“Katie,” he shakes his sister awake, and she blinks blearily at him. “What are you doing in here?”

“I was waiting for you. I was worried you weren’t coming back,” she mumbles, and he feels his heart break a little.

“Of course I came back, Kit Kat. I’m not going anywhere,” he ruffles her hair. He scoots her over, and climbs in next to her. “Now go back to sleep.”

He doesn’t get a response because she’s already knocked out. Rolling his eyes, he pulls out his phone. 

**Kent:** i had fun today

 **Alyosha:** me too)))

He falls asleep smiling, replaying the night in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Алеша! Кто твой красивый друг? - Alyosha! Who is your handsome friend?  
> Он друг с хоккейного катка. Не заигрывай с ним. - He's a hockey rink friend. Don't flirt with him.  
> До скорого! - See you soon!
> 
> Other fun stuff I guess  
> \-- Kent's town is based off of Sodus, NY  
> \- The Rochester Millers' name is based on the nickname Flour City given to Rochester for the flour milling industry there  
> \- This is unashamedly inspired by The Last Song starring Miley Cyrus and Liam Hemsworth  
> \- The 'WHL kid' incident they reference is a nod to the real issues in sports today. If you haven't read about it or aren't interested in real sports, I'd suggest reading up on the CHL lawsuit. Check Please! is a fun universe, but it is not an accurate depiction of issues in the hockey world.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s embarrassing how easily Alexei has wormed his way into Kent’s life. Summer comes to an end, bringing changes to Kent's life.

A few days before his birthday, he texts Alexei.

**Kent:** are you busy on the 4th?

**Alyosha:** no, am free)) why?

**Kent:** my dad and stepmom are hosting a fourth of july bbq if you want to come

**Alyosha:** of course I come!! will bring russian snacks

They don’t talk much before the party because Alexei is busy with training, and by the day of, Kent’s a ball of nervous energy. The barbeque is in full swing, and his dad’s neighbors and coworkers are gathered in the backyard. Joan has gone all out with patriotic decorations that have all the guests gushing by the themed dessert table. Kent hides away on the front porch, counting the minutes until Alexei comes.

“It sucks. They invited the entire block, and now I have a bunch of old people I don’t know wishing me a happy birthday.”

His mom snickers through the phone. “Be nice, Kent,” she scolds half-heartedly. “You know I’d be there if I could. I reminded my supervisor, but she went ahead and signed me up for a double shift.” She sighs, and Kent can practically hear her eye roll.

“I’d rather be celebrating at home,” he mutters.

“I promise we’ll do something when you get back. How are you and your sister getting along with Joan and Tyler?”

Kent shrugs even though she can’t see. Katie and Tyler are getting along swimmingly, being so close in age. Tyler has grown on Kent, but it still doesn’t feel right to call him a brother. “Alright. I think Katie and Tyler are bonding. Joan’s a bit much, though,” he tacks on.

“To each their own,” she comments magnanimously, making him laugh. “How about that friend of yours? Alex?”

“Alexei,” he corrects, smiling to himself. “He’s doing alright. He seems excited to be celebrating an ‘authentic American holiday’.”

“I’m glad you’re making friends.” She pauses and sighs. “I should get back to work now. Happy birthday, honey. I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

Kent pockets his phone and sighs. He wonders how long he has until his dad notices him missing. He goes back to save himself the lecture.

It’s another torturous hour before Alexei arrives holding a large foil pan. Katie nearly knocks him over with the force that she grabs onto his legs and does the honors of showing him the food tables. 

“—and these are all the desserts we have. There’s rice krispies, and brownies, and pies, and cupcakes. They’re chocolate because that’s Kent’s favorite and he’s the birthday boy.”

Alexei looks betrayed. “Why you not tell me is your birthday? I’m not bring gift."

Katie chooses then to run off, leaving Kent to fend for himself. He shoves his hands in his pockets and shrugs. “It’s not really a big deal.”

“Birthday is always big deal! We celebrate later,” Alexei frowns.

“Tater, what are you doing here?” The new voice belongs to a boy who looks their age. He’s a bit taller than Kent, and has a mess of black curls. Kent vaguely recalls seeing him arrive with two of Joan’s coworkers.

“Ozzy, I’m not know you will be here today!” He greets the boy with a bro-hug. “Kent, this is teammate.”

“‘Sup man. I’m Kent,” he nods.

“Trevor,” he nods back. He gives Kent an odd look. “Have we met before?”

Kent shifts uncomfortably. “I took my siblings to your team’s event. You probably saw us there,” he offers.

“Ozzy, you are living around here?” Alexei interjects.

“Nah, my billet parents were invited by a coworker. Why are you here?”

“Kent is inviting me! Say I should come experience American holiday at Parson home.”

“Your name is Kent Parson?” Trevor’s eyes widen in realization. “I knew you looked familiar!”  
“What you mean?” Alexei asks.

“You played for the Junior Sabres, right?” He turns to Alexei. “Bro, you didn’t know? He just had, like, a two hundred point season.”

Kent laughs nervously and avoids meeting Alexei’s puzzled gaze. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“It’s awesome meeting you, dude. Where are you playing next season, the Q?”

“I’m, uh, actually not playing. I decided to stop and focus on school.”

“No shit? I mean, good for you — and for the rest of us dusters, hah — but it’s a shame. I heard Bob Zimmermann’s son is playing for Rimouski. Would have been cool to see you two on ice together.”

“Yeah, Jack. We met at the combine.”

Sensing Kent’s discomfort, Alexei steps in and excuses them. He leads them to the other side of the yard in silence. They don’t talk about it for the rest of the party, but it hovers over them as they play with Katie and Tyler. It's a nice day, but worry nags at the back of Kent's mind. When the sun sets, the crowd thins and the remaining guests settle down on lawn chairs and blankets to prepare for fireworks.

Right before they leave, Katie runs up to Alexei, clutching a small paper bag. He ruffles her hair and gives her a conspiratorial wink. They head down the trail to the beach, walking in awkward silence until Alexei finally addresses the elephant in the room.

“Why did you not tell me?”

“Are you mad?” Kent bites his lip.

“Not mad, just not understanding why.” He hip-checks Kent playfully. “A little embarrassed too. I’m thinking you play for house team, try to impress you with hockey skills. Then I’m learn you are playing better than me.”

“Shut up, you’re definitely going in the first round of the draft.”

“But I’m not having two hundred point season,” he pouts.

“You’re a defenseman, Tates.”

Alexei just shrugs. “Still, I’m not being asked to play for Sidney Crosby’s old team.”

“Are you gonna tell me I’m crazy for quitting?”

Now that they’re further into the trees, Alexei latches on to him and swings their clasped hands between them. “I’m not tell you what to do, solnishko. If you want quit, quit. If you want play, play. If you want quit now, change mind and play later, then play later”

Alexei makes it sound so simple. It’s either the wisest or shittiest advice Kent’s ever been given. He isn't quite sure which one.

“I miss playing,” he admits. “But I wasn’t ready to leave home. And I can’t stop thinking about what they did to that guy in Kelowna.”

Alexei squeezes his hand. "Is okay, Kent. I’m understand. Not being sad on birthday, okay?”

“Right. What’s in the bag, by the way?” Kent changes the topic as they reach the edge of the woods.

“You find out soon,” he hums cryptically. A few families are grouped together by the lake, but Alexei tugs him further out down the concrete path leading onto the water and to the lighthouse. They hop onto the metal railing, sitting pressed against each other. Alexei pokes around the bag and pulls out a paper plate with a slice of cake from the party.

Kent raises a brow. “You had my sister pack you a midnight snack?”

Alexei ignores him and produces two sparklers and a lighter. He lights both and hands one to Kent. “We hide from party. Is for birthday wish.” He sticks his into the slice of cake unceremoniously, and gestures for Kent to do the same.

He starts singing softly in Russian. It’s a simple, endearing melody, and Kent doesn’t need to understand to know it’s a birthday song. When he finishes, Kent doesn’t even bother to blow them out, and pulls him in for a kiss. 

It’s chaste and Kent is content to stay that way forever. He jumps as the first firework goes off behind them, but Alexei holds him in place, smiling into the kiss. He pulls away, and nudges their noses. 

“Happy birthday, solnishko.”

Kent gives him another peck. “Thanks, babe. But I think you and Katie forgot the forks.”

Alexei blinks down at the cake. “Oh.”

Kent snorts. He breaks off a piece with his finger tips, tasting the sugar melt across his tongue. 

Alexei makes a face at him.

“Hey, you can’t judge me on my birthday.”

“Of course, always right. Kent Parson’s world, we just live in.”

“I’m glad you’re catching on,” Kent grins back.

Alexei snaps a photo, and Kent squawks indignantly when the flash blinds him. “Hey, I wasn’t ready!”

“But are being so cute. Here, we take one more together.” He pulls Kent closer, turning his phone around to snap a photo of them. The image is fuzzy, and the flash washes out Kent’s skin, but Alexei seems satisfied. They relocate to the edge of the concrete pier, and sit with their feet dangling towards the water. Huddled together to fight off the chill from the water, they watch the fireworks go off. Kent doesn’t get home until long after the fireworks are done, covered in bug bites, and unable to wipe to grin off his face.

* * *

The rest of the summer is a blur. Kent’s days are filled with Alexei. When he’s not with his family, he’s with Alexei at Gordie’s. When he can’t meet Alexei, he’s on the phone with him. When he can’t talk to Alexei, he’s thinking of him. It’s embarrassing how easily Alexei has wormed his way into Kent’s life. Summer draws to an end, and Kent tries not to think about their time dwindling. He feels a pang in his chest when he does because he knew it was never going to last. It’s a hard pill to swallow, but Alexei lives in a world that Kent will never be a part of again. 

When Kent goes back to Buffalo, Alexei will be in Rochester making a name for himself as a draft prospect. Kent’s probably going to be working at a movie theater hoping he can save enough to pay for community college. He huffs, pulling the covers over his head. “You got yourself into this mess, dumbass,” he scolds himself.

“That’s a bad word.”

Kent flails around under the blankets, finally freeing himself. “Katie, how long have you been standing there?”

She shrugs cryptically. “Tyler has something to ask you.” She shoves the boy forward. He fidgets nervously and stares at Kent with wide eyes.

“What is it? I swear, if you guys broke something—”

“It’s not that!” He assures. “I was — we’re just wondering—”

Katie rolls her eyes and pushes in front of him. “Is Tater your boyfriend?”

Kent freezes. “What? No!" He sputters, his ears turning red. “Why do you even think that?”

“We saw you kissing outside the house last night.” Katie blinks at him innocently, and Tyler looks like he’d rather not be included in any ‘we’.

“That was way past your bedtime,” Kent frowns, giving up any pretense.

“It was past _your_ curfew,” she retorts.

“Yeah, well, I’m older.” He shoots back. “And you guys can’t just go around talking about it, okay? It’s a secret.”

“Why is it a secret?” Tyler pipes up.

“Because Alexei could get in a lot of trouble. Promise me you won’t tell anyone, okay?”

“I pinky swear,” Katie promises.

Kent offers a pinky for both of them to shake on it, and drags them both in for noogies. “You guys are nosy as hell, you know that?”

“If you and Tater get married, can I be the flower girl?”

“Oh my god, get out of here,” he releases them, and they scutter out of the room. Kent lays in silence, processing what just happened. He lets out a heavy sigh.

“Fuck.”

* * *

Kent has an hour before he’s supposed to meet Alexei at Gordie's and he still has no idea how he’s going to break the news that they’ve been found out by Kent’s kid siblings. He hopes Alexei doesn’t get mad or decide to break things off early, because Kent can’t imagine a worse end to his summer.

“I’m hanging out with Alexei,” Kent yells as he heads out.

“Oh, Kent!” Joan rushes to catch him. “Before you go, someone left you a message earlier. It was from a man named Bob — Bob Simmerman, I think?”

Kent blinks at her. “Are you trying to tell me Bob Zimmermann left me a message?”

“Yes, that was his name,” she nods. “He said something about billeting and scholarships.”

“You should call him back. It’s a great opportunity, son,” his dad says.

Kent zeroes in on him. “What did you do? Did you tell Rimouski I was too broke to play or something?”

David raises his hands defensively. “I didn’t do anything. As far as I know, he reached out on his own. He said one of the local junior coaches reached out to Rimouski.”

Kent feels a pang in his chest when he realizes Alexei must have said something. “Delete the message for all I care,” Kent sniffs. “And stop buying me gear and making me take Tyler to the rink, while you’re at it. I’m done.”

David sighs, tired of having the same argument over and over. “You’re so ungrateful, Kent. All those extra shifts your mom and I took to pay for you to get where you are, and you throw it all away on a whim. You owe it to us to try harder.”

Kent finally snaps. “You know what? Fuck you. I’m done with this crap town.” Slamming the door behind him, he storms downtown in an angry blur. Natalia gapes at him when he throws the door to the shop open.

“Where the hell is he?”

The door jingles, signaling Alexei’s arrival. “Solnishko, sorry I am being late!” The genuine grin on Alexei’s face makes the betrayal sting even more. Kent trusted him like a fool.

“You fucking jerk,” he fights back angry tears.

“Is only ten minutes,” Alexei defends weakly.

“What? No, fuck that — I don’t care that you’re _late._ I care that you told your fucking coaches that I’m too broke to play hockey like I’m some kind of charity case!”

Alexei looks at Natalia, distressed, and she translates for him.

Understanding dawns on his face. “Kent, I promise I’m not meaning to tell,” he moves to comfort Kent, who steps away. “Really, is just misunderstanding.”

“Then why did you do it?”

“Is teammate from party. He is saying he meet you at party and tell team we are friends. Coaches asking me why you quit, I’m not want to tell truth so I say is just money.”

“I told you all that stuff in secret, Alexei.”

“I know, Solnishko, I’m so sorry.” He reaches out again, but Kent knocks his hand away.

“Stop calling me that,” he snaps, and instantly regrets it when Alexei’s face falls. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I’m not think is big deal.”

Kent heads for the door, Alexei trailing after him. “Maybe we should call it quits. Summer’s almost over so it’s bound to happen anyway.”

“Kent,” he starts and trails off distraughtly.

“Don’t bother following me.” Kent doesn’t risk looking back as he leaves, afraid that if he does, he’ll cave. He walks all the way to the lighthouse and dangles his legs over the water. The evening chill from the lake does nothing to calm his nerves. His phone buzzes, and he switches it off without checking the ID. What’s done is done.

The sky is black by the time Kent wanders home. He wanders into the kitchen, and hesitates before approaching the phone. A red light blinks, signaling a message. It lights up the counter in a hazy glow, painting the various letters and notes red. He picks it up, fumbling with the wires, and sits with it on the cold tiled floor. He hits play.

“Hello, this is Bob Zimmermann calling for Kent Parson.” The voice is fuzzy over the phone but clearly recognizable from the interviews Kent watched growing up. 

“I’m one of the Rimouski dads,” he introduces unnecessarily, and Kent snorts. “The coaches heard from Rochester and shared with me that you chose not to play for Oceanic due to financial reasons. I want you to know there is a great support network here if you change your mind. We have some great billet families, and there’s a grant and scholarship program I’m sure you’d qualify for. If not, I’d happily help fund your development myself. I’ve seen your tapes, son, and you’re too good not to be out here making waves. If you want to, please call me back so we can talk.”

Bob reads out a phone number, and then the phone clicks. _You’re too good not to be out here_ . The surreal words echo in Kent’s head, and a hysterical laugh bubbles up in his chest. Bob Zimmermann — _Bad fucking Bob_ — just told him he’s too good not to be playing hockey. He doesn’t know how long he sits there on the floor laughing, but by the time Joan wanders downstairs to check on him, there’s tears rolling down his face.

“Kent? What are you doing down here?”

He waves the phone at her clumsily. “Bob Zimmermann called me. Bob _Zimmermann,_ ” he wipes away a tear. “The guy’s a legend with four Stanley Cups, and he left me a message like some kind of telemarketer.”

Joan approaches him cautiously, her face pinched in worry.

“He said he wants me to keep playing,” he says, sobering down. “And I want to, so bad it hurts.”

“Oh, Kent,” she sighs, rubbing his back. She thankfully doesn’t pry.

“I want to go home,” he says in a small voice.

“I’ll call your mom first thing in the morning,” she promises. “Why don’t you get some rest, okay?”

She ushers him upstairs without much of a fight. He strips off his jeans and climbs into bed without bothering to change, tugging the sheets close like maybe they’ll keep him from bursting at the seams.

He doesn’t sleep a wink all night.

* * *

“But whyyy,” Katie whines.

“Katie, _let go,_ ” Kent grunts. He grabs a bundle of clothes from his closet and tosses it across the room into his suitcase. “I need to pack.” His leg drags along the carpet from the weight of her clinging to it.

“Why do you have to go back early? Who’s gonna play with me if Tyler is at his dad’s house?”

“You can experience being an only child. Trust me, it’s awesome.”

“Hey!”

He picks her up and dumps her on the bed. “I’ve been gone on roadies all the time, and you never threw tantrums about that.”

“That’s because I was at home. I don’t like it here,” she pouts. “I miss Mommy.”

“I know, but it’s only another week. You know I wanna hang out with you, but I have to go back for grown up stuff, okay?”

Seemingly over her fit, she scoffs. “You’re not a grown up!”

“I’m more grown up than you. Now come sit on my suitcase so I can close it.”

Their mom takes a sick day and makes the two hour drive to pick him up in the afternoon. While the adults suffer through awkward small talk over Joan’s fancy French brew coffee, Kent loads his bags into the car. After a moment of consideration, he throws his new stick in the backseat. 

“Please, stay for dinner,” Joan insists. “It’d be a great chance for us all to bond and get to know each other. Right, David?”  
He grunts something noncommittal.

“Thank you for the offer, but we really should be headed home if we want to get in before the sun sets.” They bid their awkward goodbyes with minimal crying from Katie.

“So,” his mom starts once they’re speeding down the highway. “You wanna tell me what’s been going on with you? You’ve been acting strange for months.”

Kent only shrugs in response.

“Please, Kent. I’m worried about you.”

“You’re going to treat me different.”

“Kent Parson, you listen to me. There is not a single thing in this world you could do to make me love you any less, okay? Did you get involved in something bad with the other boys—”

“I’m gay,” he blurts out.

“Oh,” she stops short. She lets out a huge breath. “Gosh, Kent, you had me so worried. I thought you were doing drugs or something!”

Kent bites his lip and wills the tears to go away. He’s always cried easily, and it’s one of the things he hates most about himself.

“You’re not mad?”

“What—of course I’m not mad. Oh, sweetheart,” she pulls onto the side of the road. “Don’t cry, baby, it’s okay.” She pulls him in for a hug, and he buries his face in her sweater. It’s soft and smells like her perfume, and it makes him feel small again. She combs a hand through his hair. “Don’t worry, momma’s here. How about we stop for dinner? Get you something to eat, hmm?”

Kent nods because he doesn’t trust his voice. He musters the courage to speak once they’re settled down for their meal. They’re sitting in a McDonald’s, a pile of food on the sticky counter between them.

“Bob Zimmermann called me,” Kent says suddenly. 

His mom’s eyes widen in surprise, even though he’s sure Joan and his dad have already filled her in. “Alicia Zimmermann’s husband?”

Kent rolls his eyes. “Yes, mom, because that’s what he’s best known for.”

“Well, what did he want?”

Kent pokes at his burger. “He wants me to reconsider playing for Oceanic.”

“Are you going to call him back?”

It feels like he should. On one hand, who is he to ignore an NHL legend? On the other, what is there to even say? _Hi, Bad Bob. Thanks for reaching out. No, I won’t be playing because I’m afraid people will find out I’m gay and beat the shit out of me._

“I’m not sure. I don’t really know anything,” Kent mutters.

“Kent, nobody knows anything when they’re seventeen. You’re doing fine. Now eat up because I want to get home before nine.”

* * *

The last couple weeks of summer pass uneventfully. Katie comes home a week later, and then the new school year starts. Kent still hasn’t called Bob back, his number scribbled hastily onto an old receipt tacked to his wall. The season has already started, but he keeps it anyway, just in case.

The remainder of Kent’s social circle that hasn’t moved away welcomes him with open arms, but they ask a lot of questions that Kent doesn’t want to answer. He still sits with them at lunch, and thankfully nobody points out that he gets more distant each day.

Kent’s grades get better, which his mom is happy about. Now that he’s not practicing every day after school, he has the extra time to study. Unfortunately, this also means extra time with nothing better to do than to stew in his own thoughts. On more than one occasion, Kent finds himself watching grainy footage from Alexei’s games. More than anger or jealousy, it fills him with an aching sadness. He misses hockey, and maybe even more so, he misses _Alexei_.

Kent gets a weekend job at the local sports shop, where luckily none of his old teammates ever go. The new routine is monotonous, and he finds himself growing restless everyday. He even starts to doubt himself. Maybe he made a mistake, quitting hockey. After all, Alexei likes boys and he’s doing just fine. The what-if’s keep him up at night, taunting him with the promise of missed opportunities and greatness.

Things hit a turning point when a young father brings his small son into the shop. Kent finds the kid in the back of the shop, staring forlornly at the too-tall hockey sticks.

“I think this is more your speed,” Kent says, plucking up one of the youth sticks. “Do you write with your right hand?”

The kid nods and grabs it with gentle hands. “Wow,” he breathes, admiring it. “Cool!”

“That’s the same brand Sidney Crosby uses.”

“You know a lot about hockey. Are you a hockey player?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Awesome! My cousin’s a hockey player. She said she’s gonna teach me how to play when she comes home from college.”

Just then, the kid’s dad comes around the corner.

“There you are, Dylan. What did I say about wandering off?”

“But Dad, I wanted to see the hockey stuff!”

The dad rolls his eyes. “I’m sorry if he was causing trouble. His cousin got a full ride playing in Minnesota this year and it is all he talks about.” He takes a look at the price on the stick and whistles. “These things aren’t cheap.”

“Tell me about it,” Kent deadpans, thinking of all the lawns mowed and dogs walked to pay for his gear. “It’s the best beginner youth stick for his age, though.”

The dad sighs, handing it back to his son. “I guess we’ll take it, then.”

Kent checks them out and spends the rest of his shift organizing the shelves. When he gets home, he untacks the receipt from his wall and stares at the number.

He picks up on the fourth ring.

“This is Bob Zimmermann.”

“Hi, Mr. Zimmermann. This is Kent….uh, Kent Parson.” It comes out sounding more like a question than a statement.

“Kent, it’s great to hear from you.” Despite his best efforts, Mr. Zimmermann can’t keep the surprise out of his voice. “How are you?”

“You too, sir. I’m doing well. Uh, listen — I know the season has already started, and I haven’t changed my mind or anything, but I’m wondering if you can answer some questions for me?”

“I’ll try my best, son. What kind of questions exactly?”

“Well, what do you know about college hockey?”

* * *

Kent joins a house team. US junior leagues protect NCAA eligibility, but Kent makes it clear to Bob that it’s off the table. He wants to distance himself from that culture as much as he can. At first, Bob is hesitant, but admits that an elite player like Kent would garner interest from scouts regardless.

Together, they find the local team with the best coaching, and Kent drops his entire paycheck to sign up late. He doesn’t improve, but it’s enough to keep him in shape and prevent his skills from getting too rusty. 

He doesn’t expect anyone to know him — they’re too removed from the world of juniors, and unlikely to be following prospects their own age. He’s still nervous on his first day though. Kent is _good._ He knows that. And it shows when they hit the ice that Kent can easily play circles around them. 

He keeps to himself the whole practice, only speaking when necessary. The best player on a team always gets a reputation. There’s no point in trying to make friends. Kent just wants to keep his head down and play good hockey so he can get a scholarship for college.

“Hey, Parson.”

Kent stiffens, bracing himself for a snarky comment about being a show-off. The guy speaking looks familiar — a senior at Kent’s school. He’s the team captain, Kent realizes. Kent didn’t even know this guy played hockey. It’s a stark reminder that Kent’s been living in a social bubble his whole life.

“Hi — uh — Jeff, right?”

“Yeah, I thought I’d seen you around school. Dude, where’d you learn to puck handle like that?”

“Just a lot of practice I guess,” he offers awkwardly.

“Well, you’ve _got_ to teach me. That dangle you pulled on Danny was insane.”

“Dude, imagine the faces on the other team when they see this guy,” Danny pipes up, and the entire locker room crows in agreement.

“Hey, a couple of guys are coming over to my place for street hockey after this. You down?”

Kent blinks. This wasn’t the way he was expecting the conversation to go. “Sure. I’ll have to call my mom to let her know first.”

“No prob, go ahead and tell her my mom won’t mind if you stay for dinner. She always cooks enough for a small army even though my siblings left for college.” Jeff rolls his eyes. 

“Sounds good,” Kent says.

And, for the first time in a long time, he means it.

* * *

Jeff’s sister is a lesbian.

Kent doesn’t know this, of course, until Jeff invites him over to play Xbox when his siblings are home for spring break. Jeff introduces them one by one. ‘ _This is Jared, John, Jess, and Jess’ girlfriend, Nicole.'_ He had said, like it was no big deal. Kent had squeezed out a strangled hello before excusing himself to the bathroom to freak out.

There’s a knock on the door. Kent cracks it open, peeking out at Jeff.

“Kent, are you okay? What the hell was that?”

Kent glances down the hallway to check for anyone else.

“You didn’t tell me your sister is a lesbian.”

“It never came up,” Jeff squints. “You don’t have a problem with it, do you?”

“What? No, of course not.”

“Are you sure? Because if you do—”

“Swoops—”

“Then I really don’t think we can be friends. I mean, you’re a chill dude but that would be so _not_ chill—”

“ _Swoops!_ ” Kent cuts him off. “I’m not homophobic, dumbass. I’m gay.”

“Oh. Huh.” He leans closer and lowers his voice. “So you’re freaking out because you’re, like, afraid they’ll sniff you out?”

Kent gives him a look. “They’re lesbians, Jeff, not bloodhounds. Just go tell your family I have food poisoning so they don’t misunderstand and think I’m a dick.” 

Mrs. Troy insists on driving Kent home after dinner, and Kent turns down the offer to lie down on the couch. He lies about feeling a bit better, and accepts the saltines and ginger ale she offers while everyone else eats. Jeff’s brothers and dad all played college hockey, so the conversation inevitably gravitates toward the sport.

“Have you boys been following draft news?” Mr. Troy asks.

“A little,” says Jared. He’s Jeff’s oldest brother, a 6’5’ sasquatch who played defense while studying engineering. “There’s this Russian kid playing D in Rochester. I saw some of his highlights.”

Kent feels the blood drain from his face.

“Oh, yeah, I heard about that,” John chimes in. John has more family resemblance to Jeff and has the same lanky build and resting-nice-face. “I’ve also been following Bob Zimmermann’s kid.”

Kent grips the aluminum can in his hand tighter. Jeff glances over at the sound of metal crinkling and gives Kent a weird look.

“That kid is all the media is talking about these days,” Mr. Troy shakes his head. “They’re always putting too much pressure on these kids. They should be worried about school, not what an entire country will say if they mess up at world juniors.”

Kent knows what he’s talking about. Kent had stalked the Team Russia roster the second it was announced, hoping to see Alexei’s name. He’d watched every game, even staying up late to watch them live. There’s still an unsent message sitting in his drafts, congratulating Alexei on winning silver. 

“Hey, wouldn’t it be cool if you played with one of them someday?” Jess asks Jeff.

He rolls his eyes in response. “In my dreams, Jess.”

“It could happen! A senior at our school left early last year to play for the Penguins. There’s a huge chance you could catch attention even if you don’t enter the draft,” Nicole chimes in to support her girlfriend.

“And Harvard has a great hockey program!”

Ginger ale sprays out of Kent’s nose. “You’re going to _Harvard?!_ ”

Jeff avoids his gaze and scratches at the back of his head sheepishly.

“Jeff,” Mrs. Troy scolds. “You didn’t tell your friends?”

“I thought you were going to Renssealer?”

Jeff shrugs. “I was, but Harvard offered a lot more financial aid last minute. I guess another student gave up their scholarship spot.”

Kent shoves him so hard he nearly topples out of his seat. "That’s awesome! Why didn’t you tell me, jerk?”

“I wasn’t sure how to bring it up,” Jeff defends himself. “I didn’t know how to say it without sounding like I was bragging.” That was typical Jeff. Was Kent such a bad friend that Swoops hid an acceptance from Harvard just in case it made Kent jealous?

Kent scoffs. “Bro, it’s _Harvard_. You’re _supposed_ to brag about that kind of thing. I’m proud of you,” he emphasizes with a punch to Jeff’s arm. “Hey, put in a good word for me when you get there.”

Jeff rolls his eyes. “You say that like they’re not going to be begging me to recruit you when they find out we’re friends.”

Kent feels the warmth of excitement and hope bloom in his chest. This could happen for him. Bob had reassured him countless times that playing on a house team wouldn’t be a deal breaker, but seeing it in action firsthand settles the anxiety. In a little over a year, Kent could be going to college and playing hockey against his best friend — or with, but to be realistic, Kent’s grade point average is not Harvard material.

“You better hope for your sake I’m on your team. Nerd,” he tacks on for good measure.

“Just drink the ginger-ale, Kenneth.”

* * *

“But Mom, I’m turning eighteen in like a month anyway!”

“And you’re free to leave after you’re eighteen. But until then, your father and I have a custody agreement, and you have to go stay with him in Alcott. And that’s final.”

Kent huffs and storms out of the kitchen. 

Katie and Jeff pointedly do not look up from their game of Sorry! Kent clears his throat.

“Oh, hey,” Jeff says like he didn’t hear Kent come into the living room. “Bro, can you maybe not fight with your mom when I’m here?”

“You and mom are fighting?” Katie gasps.

Kent rolls his eyes. “You had to use the F word?” He turns to Katie and ruffles her hair. “It’s nothing, Kit Kat.”

‘Why don’t you wanna go to Dad’s? Don’t you wanna visit Tater?”

“Who’s Tater?” Jeff asks incredulously.

Kent wraps a hand over Katie’s mouth. “No one,” he shrugs, ignoring her muffled cries. “Go play in your room, Katie.”

She hmphs when he takes his hand off, but grabs her dolls and leaves.

“Rochester can’t possibly be that bad. Maybe my brothers and I can stop by on the way to Cambridge, and we can catch a Millers game.”

“No!” Kent shouts and winces at his own outburst. “I mean, don’t bother. It’s so boring that it’s not worth a stop.”

Jeff raises a judgmental brow. “You wanna talk about it?”

“No.” 

“Does it have anything to do with this mysterious ‘Tater’?” He asks anyway.

Kent sighs, and buries his face in the couch cushions. Maybe he can suffocate himself so he won’t have to have this conversation. “He’s my ex.” Because he’s currently trying to smother himself, it comes out muffled.

“What?”

Irritated, Kent sits up in a huff. “I said he’s my ex!”

Jeff blinks at him owlishly. “You dated a guy named _Tater?_ ”

“It’s a nickname,” Kent grouses. “I can’t tell you his real name because he’s not out.”

“So you don’t want to go to your dad’s because you don’t want to see this Tater guy?”

“And because it sucks out there. My dad thinks he can buy my forgiveness for walking out on us. But mostly because of Tater, yeah.”

“It ended that badly?”

“I yelled at him in an ice cream shop and then disappeared for a year.”

Jeff winces. “My dad usually gets my mom flowers when she’s mad? I dunno if that helps.”

“It doesn’t, but thanks anyway.”

“Let me know how it goes.”

How it goes is this: Kent’s mom drops them off at the bus station, and Kent keeps himself busy listening to his iPod while Katie naps against the window. Joan and Tyler greet them at the station, and his dad brings the car around to pick them up. They make the awkward hour long drive to Alcott. There’s an overwhelming sense of deja vu except this time Kent’s emotional meltdown last summer is the elephant in the room.

He avoids the town center at all costs, but given how much time Alexei spends in Alcott, running into him is inevitable. It takes a little over a week for Kent’s dad to send him to town on an errand, which is how he runs into Alexei for the first time in a year at the local hardware store.

“Kent?”

Alexei is standing there awkwardly, arms hanging at his sides. He’s even taller than Kent remembers, and his jawline is sharper. While Kent still has baby fat that softens his features, Alexei is starting to look more like an NHL player than a high school kid. Kent realizes he still hasn’t responded when Alexei nervously eyes the hammer clenched in Kent’s fist.

He eases his grip and clears his throat. “Alexei,” he cringes at his voice cracking.

“When did you come back?”

“I got here about a week ago.”

Alexis face drops. “Oh.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets and tilts his head like he’s considering something. “Uh, I know you’re probably still being mad, but I’m wonder if you want to bring Katie and Tyler to game? We’re making it to finals. Game six on Friday.”

“Oh, uhm, I don’t know—”

He’s interrupted by a crash in the aisle next to them, and Katie whining.

Kent rubs his temple and raises his voice. “Tyler, I swear to god I’m not driving you to the ER if you get a nail stuck in your head.”

“Sorry!” Tyler calls out from the other side of the shelves.

Kent sighs. “Sorry, man, I gotta go—”

“No, go ahead, I’m sorry to bother—”

“I’ll get back to you about the game,” he says, and they both trail off. He hesitates for a second before skittering off, feeling like a dog with his tail tucked between his legs.

He doesn’t actually get back to Alexei, but there’s five tickets tucked into their mailbox a few days later anyway.

* * *

“Hey, Ref! You suck!”

“Katie,” Joan gasps, scandalized, while Kent gives her a furtive high-five. “Be polite — he’s just doing his job.”

“Well he’s not good at it,” Katie pipes, and Kent laughs. 

The Millers are down by one in the second, and the other team is fighting tooth and nail to force a game seven. The Millers have lost their momentum, and their play is frantic. They’re struggling to keep their heads above water, and it shows. Kent watches Alexei get sent to the box for cross-checking, frustration from one too many missed calls boiled over. Kent sighs, gnawing on his nails. 

“Why is Tater going to that room?” Tyler asks, stretching up to get a better view.

Their dad pulls him onto his lap to see better. “It’s called the penalty box. That means he broke a rule.”

“C’mon, Tates,” Kent mutters. “Don’t let them get under your skin.” It’s clear that they’re targeting him. Alexei has a temper, and the other team is taking full advantage of it.

There’s five minutes left in the period when the Millers tie the game, but the joy is short lived. On his next shift, Alexei takes a late hit. The sound of his body crashing into the boards echos up the stands, and Kent waits with bated breath. He waits, and waits, but the seconds tick by and Alexei doesn’t get up.

“Fuck.”

Trainers hurry onto the ice and escort him off the ice. He sees Alexei’s teammates banging their sticks in support, but all Kent can hear is the ringing in his ears. He mutters something about getting some air and clamors out of his seat. He finds a secluded hall and collapses to the floor, trying to control his breathing.

“Kent?” Natalia is standing a few feet away, like she’s hesitant to come closer. “I didn’t know you were coming. Alyosha said he didn’t think you’d make it.”

“Yeah, the whole family’s here.”

She nods understandingly. “My parents are with him right now. They said he’s fine, just a bit shaken up.”

The tension floods from Kent’s body. “Thanks for telling me.”

“I should probably head back,” she gestures down the hall.

“Yeah, of course. It was good seeing you.”

She gives him a small smile and starts to leave, but hesitates for a moment. She purses her lips. “He really missed you.”

Kent picks at the lint on his sweater. “Nothing’s changed.”

“I just thought you should know. He’ll be really happy that you came.”

Kent waits for her footsteps to fade before letting out a shuddering breath.

He returns right before intermission ends. To Kent’s relief, Alexei shuffles back to the bench with the rest of the team. The Millers come back with a huge rush in the third period. Alexei’s presence has brought the momentum back to their team, and they’re outshooting by a landslide. Twenty minutes passes in a blur, and Kent is sure they’re going to overtime, but Alexei makes an unexpected pass and his teammate buries it in the net with barely a minute to spare. The crowd is deafening, and Kent shouts himself hoarse.

Pride swells in his chest watching Alexei toss his gloves in the air, getting tackled by his teammates. His excitement radiates so strongly, you could see it from the nosebleeds. Alexei’s happiness infects the entire arena, and it makes Kent feel warm. Kent wants to kiss that big smile off his stupid face.

He hears Alexei before he sees him.

“Kent!” Alexei pushes through the crowd outside the rink heading for their cars. Kent gestures to his family that he’ll catch up.

“Hey. Congrats,” Kent musters up a small smile.

“You made it! I was thinking you not come.” His ears turn pink, matching the shade of his rosy cheeks. He’s still panting a little from the exertion.

“Thanks for the tickets, by the way. The kids had fun.”

“And you’re having fun too, yes?”

“Yeah, I did,” Kent admits.

Alexei’s answering smile is blinding. “I have to go, but I’m talk to you soon?” He asks hopefully.

“Yeah, see you soon.” Kent feels his cheeks heat up.

Alexei takes off his hat, emblazoned with _2008 CHAMPIONS!_ , and stuffs it onto Kent’s head. It’s a little damp, which is kind of gross, but it gives Kent butterflies anyway. “Paka!”

Kent watches until Alexei disappears back into the crowd before making his way to the car. Katie gives him a smug smile when he hops into the seat beside her.

“Nice hat,” she teases him.

“Shut up, twirp,” he tosses back, feeling giddy. He runs his fingers over the thick stitching the entire ride home.

* * *

This year’s draft is in Ottawa, which is a four hour drive from Alcott, Kent learns.

“You want me to go to the draft with you?” 

Alexei shuffles his feet, kicking rocks into the lake. “Only if you want to.”

“I don’t understand.”

Alexei looks up. “Uhm, I’m go to Ottawa, and then NHL team say they choose me.”

Kent rolls his eyes. “I know how the draft works, Alexei. I mean I don’t understand why you’re inviting me, or why you asked me to come to your game. And I don’t get why you asked to meet me here. Aren’t you mad at me?”

Alexei tilts his head. “Why I’m be mad for?”

“Because I blew up on you and disappeared without saying goodbye?”

“You just mad because I’m betray trust,” Alexei’s voice is contrite. “I’m so sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault. I was just embarrassed, and I took it out on you. I’m sorry too,” Kent mumbles. “For yelling at you.”

Alexei bumps his fist on Kent’s jaw playfully. “Keep chin up, solnishko. You make it up to me, yes? Come to draft.”

“If you’re sure,” he agrees hesitantly. “But isn’t the draft more of a family kind of thing? You didn’t even invite Natalia’s family.”

He just gets a shrug in return. “You’re important. I’m want you there. You can meet Mama and Papa!” If Alexei notices Kent’s face pale, he doesn’t acknowledge it. He grabs Kent’s hand and tugs him off the bench, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Come on, we go on walk,” he says, heading toward the shoreline, swinging their hands.

A couple weeks later, they make the drive up to Ottawa to meet up with Alexei’s parents. They take Alexei’s new car, which isn’t nearly as cushy as Sergei’s sports car, but Alexei is proud to have bought himself. Alexei’s driving stresses the hell out of Kent, and more than once he crosses his fingers and prays that the beat up Chevy won’t die on them.

“Aren’t your parents, like, loaded?”

“Yes, but I’m save for a year to buy myself. Next car I buy will be much nicer.” He winks.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Kent huffs. “My ass can’t handle these seats for much longer.”

“Poor baby. Need me kiss better?” He reaches over and pinches Kent’s thigh.

Kent swats his hand away half-heartedly, and Alexei snickers. He unlatches the glove department and rifles around for their passports as Alexei inches toward the border crossing. They pull up to a station and roll down the window.

“So what are you boys coming to Canada for?” The guard asks while he checks their passports.

“Hockey,” Alexei answers with a big dopey grin.

“We’re going to the NHL draft,” Kent clarifies, unable to keep the pride out of his voice.

“Wow, you guys big fans?”

Kent gives Alexei a small, private smile. “The biggest.”

* * *

“Holy shit, is that Mario Lemieux?”

Alexei doesn’t respond because he’s too busy gripping the plastic armrests for dear life. 

“Babe, calm down.”

“I’m calm,” Alexei bites back stubbornly. 

“Listen to твой парень,” Alexei’s mom scolds from the seat on Alexei’s other side. “You’re going to break chair.” 

“У него еще недостаточно мышц для этого,” Mr. Mashkov snorts.

Mrs. Mashkov hits him in the shoulder. “Stop it, Ivan.”

Alexei pays them no mind. “I think I’m puke,” he says weakly.

The representatives from the Falconers file onto stage. Kent scoots closer, pressing his arm against Alexei’s, and gets a grateful smile in return. The general manager approaches the mic, and Kent holds his breath.

“We would like to thank Ottawa for their hospitality this weekend. Providence selects, from the Rochester Millers, Alexei Mashkov.”

The crowd bursts into polite applause, but Alexei stays frozen in his seat. Kent nudges him, and it shakes him out of his stupor. He stands up and hugs his parents, then pulls Kent into a hug that lingers longer than it probably should. 

“I’m proud of you,” Kent whispers.

Alexei makes his way toward the stage, stripping off his suit jacket as he goes. He shakes the row of hands and pulls on the blue and white jersey.

“He’s always looked good in blue,” Evgenia gives him a sly smile.

“It suits him,” he agrees, watching Alexei smile for the camera.

The rest of the event passes slowly. He sees a few familiar faces from bantam tournaments get selected, who he makes sure to clap a little harder for. He spends most of his time explaining the draft to Mrs. Mashkov and pointing out players he thinks are good.

Bob approaches him after the event while Kent waits for the photographer to grab shots of Alexei and his parents. Along with him is a stout man, with a shiny head.

“Mr. Zimmerman,” Kent greets him. “It’s great to finally meet you in person.”

“I told you to call me Bob,” he says, shaking Kent’s hand. “Allan, this is Kent Parson, the player I told you about. Kent, this is my old buddy, Allan Brenton. He’s head of scouting and coaching at Boston College.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“The pleasure’s all mine. Bobby here showed me some of your old tape, and I was really impressed. I’d love to come to one of your games next season and see how you’d fit over in Boston.” 

Kent takes a moment to process the fact that Bob Zimmermann has seen Kent’s tape and has apparently been _sending it to scouts_. He meets Bob's eyes, and Bob smiles encouragingly. “Of course. It’d be an honor.”

“I’ll go ahead and get your contact details from Bobby then. I’ll see you around, son. You have a nice night.”

“Thank you, you too,” Kent says numbly. 

Bob leads Coach Brenton away, but turns back to throw Kent a quick thumbs up. Kent feels like he’s entered the Twilight Zone.

“You talking to Bad Bob?” Alexei materializes beside him. “What he want?”

“His friend wants me to play for Boston College.”

Alexei engulfs him in a hug. “Is great news, solnishko! Boston is being so close to Providence too.”

Kent suddenly remembers where they are. “Not as great news as you getting _drafted._ Seventh overall! You’re a big shot now. Don’t forget me when you’re famous.

“How I’m forget? You go to Boston, come visit me, yes?”

Kent laughs, feeling giddy. Four years playing hockey in Boston with his best friend, just a train ride away from Alexei — he resists the urge to pinch himself. “ Of course,” he smiles up at Alexei. “Sounds like a plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My probably inaccurate google-translate Russian:
> 
> Listen to твой парень - Listen to your boyfriend  
> У него еще недостаточно мышц для этого - He doesn't have enough muscle for that yet


	3. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The summer after the draft ends, and the boys start their lives out east.

“Just a little bit more — just an inch — over to the right —  _ there! _ ”

Alexei drops the heavy dresser with a loud thud. “You say you need me to come help, not come do everything for you.”

Kent watches from his perch on the twin sized bed. “I’m just helping you prep for training camp. You’re getting called up this season, I know it.”

Alexei fixes him with an irritated glare. “I’m not make roster if I throw out back moving desk.” He takes Kent’s proffered hand and lets himself get tugged onto the bed. “So spoiled,” he grumbles.

“Whose fault is that?” Kent chirps, pressing a sloppy kiss to his cheek. “Thanks for helping me move into my dorm, babe.”

Alexei pinches his thigh and noses at his throat. 

“Knock it off, my mom could be back any second,” Kent giggles when Alexei’s hair tickles his neck.

“We have time.” He kisses him deeply, pressing his back into the mattress. Alexei’s hand inches under his shirt, and Kent hums into the kiss.

The doorknob jiggles, and Kent pulls away abruptly, pushing Alexei away. He lands on the carpet with a soft thud. “We weren’t doing anything!” Kent yells defensively.

Jeff, coffee tray in hand, lifts an unimpressed brow.

“Oh, it’s just you. Hey, Jeff.”

Alexei groans from the floor.  _ “Oh, hey, Jeff,”  _ he mocks in an exaggerated American accent. Kent runs a hand through his dark hair apologetically.

“‘Sup, Tater. You guys done unpacking? I thought I’d show you around the area.”

“My mom wants to take us all out for lunch when she gets back, so maybe after? Until then, help me set my TV up.” 

Jeff whistles, catching the cable Kent tosses. “This is nice, dude.”

Kent had saved up a few thousand dollars working at the shop, but Boston College had offered him a full ride. Instead, he’d spent the money on hockey gear and a gaming console for his room. The rest he planned to use for social outings and visiting Alexei. Alexei insists on paying the travel fees, but Kent is determined not to rely on his boyfriend.

“When does training camp start?” Jeff makes small talk with Alexei.

“I’m go to Providence in September.”

“Our season starts in October. Harvard is playing Boston College for the first game. I assume you’re coming?”

“Of course. Please don’t win, I don’t want to hear Kent whining.”

Kent rolls his eyes at them snickering together. If you had told Kent this is where he’d be three years ago, he’d have scoffed and said he’d already be in the NHL. If you’d told him two years ago, he’d have laughed in your face and told you he’d never step foot on ice again. But living in the moment, Kent can’t help but feel that he ended up exactly where he was meant to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I had so much fun writing this.


End file.
